


No Crueler Fate Than This

by Cain124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cain124/pseuds/Cain124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it too much Dean to ask for the people he saves to stay saved. The answer is yes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Crueler Fate Than This

**Author's Note:**

> Warning this is violent and sad. I was having some Dean feelings that needed out.

            Dean made eye contact with her over the barrel of his gun. He noticed the flecks of grey in her otherwise golden eyes, the group of freckles on her temple. He could smell the sweetness of the flower garden on the other side of the wooden fence. Her chest rose and fell in the same rapid tattoo as his, thick red hair swirled around her as the wind picked up.

            The chase had been long and somewhere along the way he had lost sight of Sam. They had run down countless alleys and crossed railroad tracks. A while back they had entered into the parking lot of an apartment complex. Now they were on a residential block, in the back yard of a house with a For-Sale sign out front.  Dean’s calves burned from the exercise. His head was a little fuzzy from the whiskey, but he never let that stop him.

            She didn’t look scared. She looked defeated, sad, angry, but there was no fear in her eyes. Not any fear that Dean could see. She faced him with the same determined look he had seen in the mirror every time he forced himself to get out of whatever skeezy motel room he had been staying in that night. She was caught and now that she had no hope of escaping the bullet, she was going to go out with whatever honor a monster could. Dean could respect that kind of mentality, even if he didn’t want to.

            “No more running?” Dean’s voice was hoarse, his breathing labored. “I gotta say that’s a relief.”

            She grinned. The sharp shark like row of teeth fully extended and covered in blood, bits of the tendon stuck in the spaces. All the cute girl-next-door charm washed away with that one action.

            “Well babe,” She picked a large piece of gristle out of the back of her mouth. “If you are gonna go out. You better fucking go out.”

            She brought the gristle-covered finger back to her mouth and licked it. Her stance was relaxed. She made no move to attack or run she just stood there calmly watching Dean point his gun.

            “You know that won’t kill me,” nodding towards the gun, still picking at her teeth. “I hope you brought a blade.”

            Dean took one of his hands off the gun and pushed back his jacket so she could see the wicked looking machete attached to his hip.

            “Is it sharp?” her tone was eerily calm, almost flippant.

            “Sharp enough,” both of his hands where on the gun again. He was watching her eyes carefully. “You aren’t gonna fight me are you?”

            “Nope,” she looked up at the sky and then back to Dean. “You know you saved me once. When I was a kid, when I was human. This poltergeist was haunting the house my Dad and I were renting. You had some old guy with you, with a baseball cap. Really comes full circle doesn’t it?”

            “I’m still gonna kill you Sweetheart,” His voice louder now that hi breathing had calmed. She nodded at him. Dean hesitated, the gun suddenly unsteady in his hand. “And you are still not gonna to fight me?”

            “Nope,” She took a small step forward. “You are gonna have to do it. You have to look me in the eyes and take my life, no self-defense crap. Then you can decide if you should have even saved me to begin with.”

            “This doesn’t make you some kind of monster hero ya know, ”Dean holstered his gun in the small of his back and reached for the blade. “It doesn’t make you any different than any other thing I’ve taken down.”

            “Sweetheart,” She tilted her head and grinned again. “It doesn’t matter that I die. It matters that you saved a little girl, but you couldn’t keep her from turning into a monster and now you have to kill her.”

            Dean swung the machete slicing her neck. It wasn’t clean. Her neck tilted back at a horrible angle exposing muscle and bone. A wretched gurgling noise disturbed the quiet. Dean’s stomach turned with second strike. He looked down at the body, blood pooling around the head lying lifelessly on the ground. Her eyes were still open. Dean leaned down, closing her eye-lids with gentle fingers. He felt sick and worse he felt useless. Dean heard panting and the rustle of the bushes being trampled. Sam rushed into the back yard a blade at the ready.  

            “Good job,” Sam spoke with a jovial hum in his voice. “Wanna grab something to eat after we get rid of this? There’s that burger place.”

            “No, Sam,” Dean wiped his hands on the front of his jeans, handing his brother the machete. “I need a shower and a drink.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any Supernatural characters.


End file.
